Page 81 of Beasts of Mine

By the time I finished backing up the day's photographs, the purple flower from that morning had opened slightly in the metal mug. I did my six o'clock radio check with Mara, confirmed that I was alive, uninjured, and still in possession of all necessary limbs, then changed one camera battery and started laying out what I'd need for the next morning.

Gentleman had been interested in the eastern ridge since late afternoon. He'd looked toward it more than once on the walk back before finally telling me there were birds gathering beyond it.

A lot of them.

That was enough to interest me, but not enough to make me careless. I pulled the map from my bag and checked the eastern ridge before bed. It sat within the larger section Mara had cleared for me to work, although none of the station's marked trails extended that far. If the weather held, I'd radio my route in the morning, pack for a longer hike, and see whether Gentleman knew what he was talking about.

Judging by the last few days, he probably did.

I eventually crawled beneath the mosquito net with my field notes updated and the day's batteries charging. Menace had already settled near the front of the shelter, stretched across the ground with his head resting on one paw. Gentleman occupied his usual place farther back, where the platform roof protected him from the water that still occasionally shook free from the trees.

Cat hadn't returned yet.

I told myself I wasn't waiting for him.

Several minutes later, vegetation moved near the trail and he appeared soundlessly from the darkness, his coat catching the weak light from my lantern before he crossed toward the platform. He paused long enough to look at me through the mosquito net, then lowered himself beside the steps in the same place he'd chosen every night.

Something in my chest loosened, and I frowned at the ceiling of netting above me because that was probably another reaction I shouldn't examine too closely.

Tomorrow, Gentleman wanted to take me farther east. There were birds beyond the ridge, and judging by everything he'd shown me so far, there was a good chance the trip would be worth the extra distance.

I rolled onto my side and looked through the net at the three spotted bodies scattered around the shelter. They understood cameras, maps, wind direction, human jokes, and far more of my conversations than any leopard had a reasonable excuse to understand. I still didn't know what that meant, but somewhere over the last several days, curiosity had stopped being the only reason I kept following them.

I trusted them.

For the moment, that was enough.

CHAPTER TWELVE

EVIE

The next morning, Day Five, I stood beside the worktable laying out equipment for a longer hike as the forest slowly brightened beyond the platform. The rain had stopped sometime before dawn, but water still clung to every broad leaf surrounding camp and dropped steadily whenever something disturbed the canopy overhead. The air smelled of wet earth, damp bark, and crushed vegetation, freshly washed after the storm, though the humidity had returned quickly enough that the back of my shirt was already sticking to me before I'd finished breakfast.

Gentleman had remembered our plans from the night before. He sat at the bottom of the platform steps, following everything that disappeared into my field bag with his green-gold gaze. Menace occupied the opposite side of the shelter in a patch of weak morning light, and Cat waited near the trail with the patient stillness of someone who had been ready to leave for ten minutes and couldn't understand why everyone else was taking so long.

I wasn't blindly following three leopards several miles into unfamiliar rainforest just because one of them had promised birds. Whatever strange turn my relationship with them had taken, I still had professional standards and a healthy interest in not becoming the subject of an avoidable search-and-rescue operation. I checked the map before folding it into its waterproof sleeve. The eastern ridge was farther than I'd traveled so far, but it remained inside the broad section Mara had cleared for fieldwork. Beyond the ridge, the station map became less useful. There were no maintained trails marked there, only elevation lines, streams, and broad stretches of green that told me very little about what I'd actually find beneath the canopy.

I packed enough water for the day and any other items I didn't leave camp without. The second camera body went into its padded section, and the telephoto lens went in last. Menace's ears came forward the moment he saw it.

“Don't,” I told Menace, pointing at him before his interest could become action as I lowered the padded lens into its compartment.

I didn't touch it, Menace protested, remaining stretched across the boards even though his attention stayed firmly on the open bag.

“You were about to,” I told Menace, pulling the zipper closed before he had a chance to prove me right.

You don't know that, Menace argued, lifting his head with such offended dignity that I had to fight a smile.

“I know you well enough by now,” I told Menace, settling the bag against one shoulder while he continued looking personally insulted by the accusation.

That does not make you right, Menace replied, flicking one ear toward me as though he'd found the flaw in my argument.

“It makes me right often enough,” I told Menace, giving the closed camera bag a protective pat before reaching for the radio. Menace made a low sound that was probably supposed to communicate disagreement, but after several days of knowing him, I was fairly certain he'd simply run out of arguments.

The morning radio check mattered more. I picked up the handset, gave Mara my planned route, told her where I expected to leave the maintained trail, and offered a conservative return estimate. She asked about water, radio signal, and my locator beacon before finally sounding satisfied that I wasn't wandering into unfamiliar forest armed with nothing but a camera and questionable judgment.

“If you change direction significantly, update me before you do it,” Mara reminded me through the radio, her practical tone coming through clearly beneath a light wash of static.

“I will,” I promised Mara, pressing the transmit button before clipping the radio securely onto my waistband. By the time I finished adjusting my camera strap, all three leopards were standing and looking toward the trail.